Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)(54)

“You are expected, Sir Ransom,” one of them said. “Enter the courtyard. You’ll be met by Sir Acostel, who is greeting the visitors. He will direct you.”

“Thank you,” Ransom answered and continued on. The mule balked before passing under the portcullis. Ransom wondered if the animal feared the gate might suddenly come down, cutting it in half. It was a strange thought to have, and he shook his head at himself and continued in.

Sir Acostel had long, flowing, light brown hair—balding on top—and a trimmed goatee. He wore a fancy tabard with the silver rose badge on it and gripped a leather-bound book as he stood waiting for Ransom to approach. A page stood by him with a quill and a bottle of ink.

“Greetings, Sir Ransom,” he said after the introduction. “The queen has been eagerly expecting you. You have two horses in your possession and your armor, I see. Your other baggage will arrive from Tatton Grange, I presume?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Ransom answered, feeling a tickle in his throat. He coughed to clear it.

A stable hand arrived with a mounting block, and Ransom swung down from his saddle and thanked the boy.

“Sir Graun!” called Acostel. A knight approached quickly. “This is Ransom Barton. The queen wished to see him at once upon his arrival. Please escort him to Her Majesty.”

They entered the palace, and as Ransom walked alongside the fellow, he took in the sight of the familiar rooms, noting how much they had changed. During Ransom’s final days at the palace, so many servants had abandoned Gervase that the halls had felt desolate. Now they were festooned with garlands and thronged with people in fancy livery and servants carrying an assortment of dishes, although none were laden with food. Was this just a preparation for the coming coronation?

“I fancy your armor,” said Sir Graun. “Where’d you get it?”

“An armorer in Chessy,” replied Ransom.

“It must have cost a fortune. Were you ever a tournament champion?”

“No, although I did win some events.”

“Funny how all the champions tend to be Occitanians,” he sneered. “Have you met the Black Prince?”

“In passing.”

There was a little more small talk before he realized that the knight was escorting him to the king’s chamber. He’d expected to go to the great hall. The rest of the walk was made in silence, nervous on his part and companionable on the knight’s end.

“This is Sir Ransom, come on the queen’s orders,” said Sir Graun once they arrived outside the guarded door.

One of the guards knocked on the door and opened it. He said something, and out came the chamberlain, a silver-haired man in a velvet tunic, with a chain of office around his neck. Coming behind the chamberlain was Lord Archer, the Duke of Glosstyr. Ransom recognized him immediately and felt his stomach clench with dread when he saw the duke scowl at him. The man said nothing as he passed.

“Welcome, Sir Ransom. Please, come in,” said the chamberlain with a bright smile. “I am Sir Iain. I’ve served Her Majesty for many years. Oh, don’t mind the gruff duke. He’s always surly like that. You are very welcome.”

Ransom entered the chamber, expecting to see only the queen, but when he stepped farther inside, he caught sight of King Devon leaning against the wall, cradling a goblet in one hand. Ransom’s knees began to tremble.

“There he is,” said Devon with a shrewd smile. He pushed away from the wall and started pacing the room with a restless energy. His free arm gesticulated. “The lost sheep has been found. A rather expensive sheep, I daresay.”

“Husband, be kind,” said Queen Emiloh, rising from a sofa on the other side of the room.

“I’m always courteous, if not always kind. Welcome again to Kingfountain, Sir Ransom. Your reputation for needing saving precedes you.”

The words were a blow, but Ransom didn’t flinch.

“Devon, please. Be civil.”

“I am being civil. He cost five thousand livres. I wouldn’t have paid half that for one of my own sons.”

Ransom stared at the king in surprise, trying to tame his surging feelings of humiliation and dread when he saw a smile flicker on the king’s mouth. He realized that the man was toying with him, trying to get a reaction.

“I’m certain Your Majesty would have paid ten times as much for one of his own sons,” Ransom said, bowing slightly.

The king beamed, striding toward him. “See, Emiloh? I knew he could handle my jests.”

“You didn’t know. You’ve never met him before,” she said with a sigh. “My apologies for my husband’s rude sense of humor.”

“It’s not rude, how dare you suggest that! I’m offended.”

“If you’re offended, then I’m a duckling,” she said. As she approached him, Ransom knelt before her, and she held out her hand with the royal ring on her finger. Ransom kissed the gem.

“Rise, Sir Ransom,” she said.

“Yes, on your feet,” said the king. “I can’t bear such tedious formalities behind closed doors. I may yawn to death. He’s here, and we’ve shooed away Lord Archer to speak with him. Best he knows why and soon.”

“We will finish talking about Lord Archer later,” said the queen. “He has a right to be concerned.”